


Camouflaged Sins

by WitchyBird



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, I have to pass the time until Rough Day updates somehow, Lord forgive me for I will be sinning, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Romance, Rough Sex, Smut, The Helmet Stays On, Will take two chapters to get going, inspired by rough day by guardianangelcas, this is going to be a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29200983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyBird/pseuds/WitchyBird
Summary: You're picked up by a terrifying bounty hunter known only as the Mandalorian and what was supposed to be a quick trip turns into something much longer.“You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.” - Oscar Wilde
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Mando/reader, The Mandalorian/Reader, The Mandalorian/You
Comments: 23
Kudos: 112





	1. Rough Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy, please leave any feedback I'd be very grateful to hear it.

Blaster noise no longer bothered you. It blazed past your head with a ground-splitting crack, burning hot and blinding, sinking into the wall somewhere behind. You could smell the charred durasteel sizzle into the polluted air, adding to the already heavy smog. No one really flinched, why would they; that was just part of life on Corellia. Thick trails of smoke billowed out the grates lining the streets, ballooning around the abandoned string of TIEs strung up overhead.

Corellia was a sewer for the scum of the galaxy at the best of times, at least the shipyards were - everyone was out to make money one way or another. If it wasn't gambling it was drugs, if it wasn't drugs it was slaves, and if it wasn't slaves - well you'd really fucked up. With the fall of the Empire fresh in everyone's memories people were looking for an opportunity, a way to capitalise on the gap in the market. Corellia was still a mess, imperial sympathisers were just as common as rebel cells, and neither held a second thought for the people that got in their way. Either way the shipyard you'd been working on had been decommissioned and you were now out of a job.

If only you were so lucky.

No, the instant the imperial forces left the slavers guild moved in, rounding up all but a few of the engineers, mechanics, and pilots that were left behind. The weakest were disposed of quickly, not enough money to be had in workers that couldn't work. A few had been taken into custody of the guild. You'd watched as they were manacled and hauled into one of the obscenely opulent ships that stopped by, probably to be used to fix and fly the fleet of the slavers.

No you wouldn't be getting either treatment - both of which preferable to what you guessed was going to be your future now. Stretching over nearly the whole expanse of this precinct were lines after lines of the old workers, not handcuffed, but the hoards of slavers holding blasters and vibrolances suggested that attempted escape was foolish. For hours now you'd been shuffling forwards at an agonisingly slow pace, given the luxury of time to consider your fate. Every now and then someone would come up and grab your face in a thick gloved hand, roughly inspecting the goods for their quality. Smears of engine oil tarnished your cheeks, remnants of yesterday's work on a transport ship that would now go unappreciated and unpaid.

At some point in the afternoon it started raining, heavy globules ricocheting off your waxed poncho. The water streamed down your face, it dragged the dirt and ash with it and saturated your undershirt - the one thing that had been keeping you warm. You started to shiver, but as the hours past you stopped noticing it except for the spray of droplets that would detach with every shake. The closer you got to the front of the line the more frequently slavers came up to check on people, one in every ten being seized and pulled away. They were getting more selective with the scrawny ones; not enough room on their transport ships you guessed. Again a grotesque man shoved his hands under your jaw, yanking it around to get a better look at you - assessing what kind of slave you would be. The stench of his hand nearly made you wretch, it reeked of sweat, bile, and a metallic twang you didn't want to think too much about.

This time the slaver lingered on you longer than before, running a sluggish finger through the grease marks, only succeeding in making you appear dirtier. As his fingers started to squeeze too tight for comfort you instinctively jerked your face away.

Bad idea.

Still grasping you he brought the back of his other hand down on you, the split of leather against skin ringing out into the compound. Fuck that wasn't a smart move. Thank the stars the slaver decided that he was finished with you, moving further down to decide the fate of another poor soul. Blood pooled hot and sticky inside your mouth and you spat it into the mud between your feet. So this was going to be your life now, beaten around until some pig had his fill of you. Right at the front of the line the shrill yells of yet another female engineer shuddered down your spine, or was that just the incessant rain? A well dressed - too well dressed for this place - man grabbed the manacles that had just been slapped onto her wrists, heaving her along with him.

That was a fate you were really keen to avoid. Most of the females had been pulled out now, off to serve their masters in a different way. Thankfully the grime over you was making you seem really unappealing, and you were happy to keep it that way. You'd take a planet of landfill over the horrors that were probably awaiting those girls.

It was close now, the front of the line, the checkpoint for your future. Over the sagged shoulders of the other crew in front you could see your manager sat at the administration desk - lucky bastard. Probably managed to worm his way into their favour so he wouldn't also face the same. Now he was sorting you all out, using his knowledge of your skills to sort you into role you'd be most productive in. So what was it going to be for you, clearly they'd already decided that you weren't worth the effort in cleaning you up and shipping you off to be some lord's whore. You were a good engineer, knew your way around most ships, maybe they'd deliver you to the outer rim, apparently there was a demand for skilled workers out there at the minute.

Another ship landed just outside of the perimeter, the rackety engines dispersing muddy water across your sodden boots. Maybe they'd already pulled out all the engineers worth taking and you were just going to be some cantina wench, serving drinks to men who would stare at your ass more than your face until you withered away. Fuck you wanted to scream. You were so close to saving up to get out of here; you had plans to get out and reach the New Republic, put your skills to use on a ship that might do some good for a change.

In your seething anger you hadn't noticed how close to the front of the line you'd gotten, less than 10 people away from whatever pitiful life was going to be your new reality. Another figure approached the desk from outside the compound, just as the well dressed man had, another buyer come to hand select from the stock.

Except this one was different.

The character caught everyone's attention right away. It wasn't the broad figure, or the complete lack of flamboyancy that was bestowed upon every other buyer, it wasn't even the staggering rifle that was slung over their back. No, it was the full body plate armour that really did it. The crimson pauldrons and chest plate clashed glaringly against the slosh of greys and black that every other slaver wore, every chip and dent in them screaming: _do not fuck with me_. What really topped it off was the gleaming chrome helmet, with sharp curves and a look that was utterly deadly.

A Mandalorian.

The cape that adorned their shoulders fluttered ever so slightly at the top of their boots as they kept looking between the official and the herd of workers lined up in the miserable weather, still flinching from every harsh word of the slavers. You were transfixed as the figure spoke to your old manager in inaudible tones even despite being so close to you. You'd seen some weird shit on this dumpster of a planet, but a real life Mandalorian - well you'd only heard stories. Most of them ending in massacre or genocide, but this was just one right?

What did a Mandalorian want with imperial- sorry ex-imperial shipyard workers sold by a slaving guild. Probably the same thing as any other buyer you reminded yourself as you watched the conversation become a little more tense. Towering over the already meek official, the man stood statuesque as his request was considered (you presumed it was a man with shoulders that broad, but you never know). Beckoning over one of the guards the small group fell back into rough negotiations.

What kind of slave would a Mandalorian be interested in? One to carry around his weapons and equipment, or maybe one he can gamble on in pit fights and street brawls; an expendable life. Maybe if he'd gotten here earlier he would have taken one of the prettier girls, kept her in his bed whilst he did his job and make her please him when he came back. You weren't any of those. Well out of your work gear you could maybe turn a head here or there, but the slavers had deemed you not worthy of pulling out, so they wouldn't be recommending you for that scenario. You were hardly big brawly material either, the words scrappy came to mind.

The official rose from his seat, snapping you back into reality, a shuffle of anticipation rippling through the line as he inspected it up and down. How much was the Mandalorian paying for one of you, were you even worth a quarter salary or were those left in line the ones they were hauling off for any old price? Leaning across the desk to get a better view further into the pound your manager said something else to the slaver he'd called over, clearing feeling very morally troubled in his new position. Bastard. The slaver turned from the desk and swiftly advanced towards the line, agitation quickly setting in throughout the crew as you all knew what was coming next, and none of you were quite sure if being sold to a Mandalorian was better than the alternative. Stopping right in front of you the slaver grabbed your face for a third time that day to inspect you.

"You sure you meant this one?" he blared back to the admin desk, like he was dubious that the official had actually picked out someone as filthy as you on purpose. Your manager just gave a sharp nod in response, before pulling the Mandalorian's focus down to the damp paperwork clinging limply to the desk.

_Well shit._

There wasn't even time to catch another breath before you were wrenched violently from the line and a pair of manacles slapped onto your wrists, the ice cold casing biting at your damp skin. You wildly looked around the complex, like anybody would actually give a shit about what was about to happen to you, and unsurprisingly no one looked in any way concerned. Unwittingly dragging your feet through the sludge you felt the sharp jab of a blaster end being pushed into your back, the slaver quickly running thin on patience. You stumbled and tripped along, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the ground a few feet in front on you. Maybe the Mandalorian would see how grungy you were and pick someone else?

You didn't even look up as you reached the desk, indistinct conversation occurring somewhere to your side, the shuffle of papers filling the gaps. Still shivering you began to notice the cold again as your fight or flight kicked in, the adrenaline pumping hot through your veins. What the fuck did the Mandalorian request for them to have pulled out you specifically. Unfortunately only one reasonable answer came to mind.

You were one of the only females left.

So that was going to be your life now. The Mandalorian was so desperate for a piece of flesh that he was willing to take any old thing from the stinking pits of Corellia. He must be a _really_ nice guy.

There was more discussion, more shuffling of papers, then then clunking of credits being presented on the dull desktop to complete the transaction. A part of you desperately wanted to see what you were worth, was it even a dent in his funds or were you a thoughtless purchase. Struck by fear or anger - you weren't sure yet - you continued to stare unwavering at the ground until you were shoved sideways around the desk towards the Mandalorian. His presence dominated you, looming there like a predator in the final stages of a hunt, and you were the helpless prize.

"Pleasure doing business with you," the manager finished the trade and gestured to the guards to open up the perimeter gates, a hefty thud of metal against metal as they obeyed. With that your new master strode away, no final words, a resolve in his stride that you took as a cue to follow. The rain was still pouring from the bleak clouds high above, it bit into your trembling face before soaking into your skin, really adding to the whole drowned sewer rat look. Finally the grease seemed to be dislodging from your forehead, only to start running into your eyes as you attempted to keep up with the almost unnatural pace the Mandalorian had taken up, not even bothering to look at you once. Blinking away the worst of the muck you looked up for the first time just as you passed through the compound fence, more hoards of slavers gathered outside ready to dispatch their new cargo to whichever backwater hive had been selected.

Turning sharply right the Mandalorian diverted course and you nearly skidded through the churned ground just trying to follow, your bound wrists not aiding in any way. This guy was really giving off some spectacular vibes. You almost had to break into a jog just to keep up, but with the slipperiness underfoot you decided that was unlikely to give off a good first impression. Did you even care, it wasn't like you chose this so what he thought should make absolutely no difference to you whatsoever. Then you remembered you might live a little longer if he decided you were worth keeping around.

When you finally halted in front of what you presumed was his ship it took every morsel of self control you had to not burst into a sick laughter. That wasn't a Mandalorian ship, that was frankly a pile of junk. Cylindrical twin engines jutted out from the boxy hull that appeared to constitute of sheets of poorly welded scrap and some seriously lacking patch jobs. You'd decommissioned imperial shuttles that were in better shape than this.

Of course not a single word of this left your lips as the Mandalorian pressed something on his bracer and the hangar door slowly descended with a teeth-grinding screech of badly maintained pistons. The inside was dimly lit, only the small area surrounding the entrance revealing any kind of features, the most prominent being the weapons rack placed almost too purposely in view, a really blunt warning. Utility straps hung from the ceiling and drooped into the sloping walls, the occasional canvas flap bolted to the sides for storage. You couldn't hear anyone else, but was there crew?

As you were inspecting your new abode you suddenly felt a steel gaze bore into you and peeking to your side you realised the Mandalorian's pitch visor was facing directly to you for probably the first time. You got why everyone backed away when the slaver came to pick you out; having a Mandalorian staring you down was _haunting_. He said nothing at all, just gestured promptly towards the open hatch reminding you that you know belonged to him and what he commanded was to be obeyed. Maybe if you sprinted off really quickly he'd lose you in the thick crowds of the downtown, too many people and not worth the effort to chase after a slave.

He has that rifle slung to him for a reason you reminded yourself, no amount of running would save you. You dropped your head again and clambered up the ramp as best you could, disappointed in yourself that you weren't even putting up the hint of a fight. As you reached the deck level you got a better view inside the ship and immediately decided there was no other crew, there wasn't physically enough space to house three people now you'd been purchased. The walls were varying shades of durasteel, practical in nature and designed only for a purpose, there was no aesthetic pleasure in any of it, nothing easy on the eye.

Maybe that's why he bought you.

Behind you the heavy clunking of footsteps reverberated up the ramp followed by the unpleasant piston wail again, quickly sucking what little light there was back outside. Quickly looking over your shoulder you managed to get a final glimpse of the shipyard before the door sealed and you were locked in darkness. _Fuck,_ what happened now? Was he going to immediately make use of you, take full advantage of your bound hands and have his way despite the dirt covering you. Was he going to put you into some kind of slave outfit that you'd seen some of girls wear through the transparisteel of the ships just that morning?

Light flooded the interior with a warm white glow as the Mandalorian flicked a few switches on an electrical panel. Oh ok, not bad then. Another button pressed and a rumble shuddered one of the side panels and a blast of hot air smacked the side of your face. Oh that was _nice_. The air flow sent droplets sliding off you onto the floor where you stood as you felt all the blood return to your otherwise frozen face, the shivering already becoming less frequent. The Mandalorian remained silent as he unslung the rifle and replaced it onto an empty slot on the rack, framing it with the sizeable stash of blasters and bizarre unnameable weaponry.

You didn't twitch a single muscle as he moved around you, cold armour occasionally catching your side as he went about reorganising some of the locker compartments, practically unaware that his new slave was just standing there clueless. Would you have to stand there until he gave you an order?

He slammed another compartment shut with the force of a pissed off rancor. Yes you were absolutely staying still until he gave you instruction. He dived off deeper into the ship and your eyes followed as much as possible without moving your head until they came to rest on a single ladder dropped right at the end of the corridor. As he reached it he paused, swinging back round to face you like he was finally remembering you were there, greasy and dripping on the floor of his ship.

"Do you live anywhere?"

The voice that relayed through the modulator was pretty much anything other than what you were expecting, deep and chesty, softer than someone who should be giving orders and warmed your core like a glass of Corellian nectar. You didn't register the question for a moment, still lost on that bassy tone before realising he was waiting for an answer.

"S-sector 9," in comparison you sounded downright pathetic, "block 752 fl-floor 12."

"Do you have belongings there?"

You just nodded. Whatever was yours was his now, so no wonder he wanted to benefit from every scrap you owned, not that it was much anyway. Unmoving the visor continued to bore into you, any facial expressions utterly concealed, not even body language gave away what was going on in that chrome bucket. Striding over he slotted a small chip into the side of the manacles and they popped open with a delightful _click,_ before returning swiftly back to the end of the walkway.

"Refresher is at the back, clean yourself up," with that he ascended the ladder at rate that should have been impossible for someone wearing that much armour. Your first command; clean up, get ready for whatever he wanted to do to you once he'd stashed your entire life's savings. Overhead the twin engines clattered into life and the jolt of lift-off practically smacked you back into the hatch door. If he could afford a slave surely he could put some funds into this pile of scrap before it fell apart mid-air, but then again maybe you hadn't cost that much. Lurching towards the rear of the hull you fumbled with panels on the wall until a panel barely wider than your shoulders slid open, the refresher room - well closet- revealing itself under the shine of a single bulb.

Closing the door behind you, you peeled off each piece of grimy clothing until it sagged in a gross pile on the floor, your damp skin already reacting wonderfully in the warming air of the ship. It took you a minute to work out how the fresher worked but as soon as the water hit your flesh you melted under the stream, steam slowly building up in puffs around you. Time seemed to freeze as you began to rub soap into the grease, gradually working it from your skin and watching as it drained through the vents in the floor, the absolute bliss of being clean again. You had no idea what faced you when you went back into that hull, but for now you could treasure these final moments of feeling like yourself.

Once you'd scraped every fingerprint from the slavers off your now raw face and rinsed the remaining suds away you reluctantly turned off the fresher, colder air instantly rushing in to replace the enveloping steam. Wiping the water from your eyes you quickly realised you had no towel and no clean clothes, only the pile that still lay at your feet, and like hell you were putting those on again. This must have been his plan, get you clean and then have you wander around naked as a newborn for his pleasure. Grasping a notch on the door panel you slid it open just enough to get a glimpse into the hull, fully expecting to see the Mandalorian standing there stoically.

Nothing. No brooding figure ominously waiting for you to reveal yourself. Instead, placed just outside the fresher was a large canvas bag you recognised to be the only piece of mobile storage you owned, plump with whatever he had taken from your room. One hand darted out and grabbed it, heaving it into the already cramped fresher and closing the door again before he could see you, if he was even looking. Inside was a collection of clothes from your room, a few pairs of shoes, a leather satchel and a wooden box that you'd kept personal trinkets in. None of your belongings were lavish or even that pretty, they were practical and versatile, designed to last for as long as possible to save the cost of needing to buy more. Wedged into the satchel was what looked like your entire credit chip bounty, just where you remembered leaving it.

Had the Mandalorian unwittingly just handed his new slave back their life's savings or was it some strange power play he was pulling, a ruse to get you to like him before he used you. Deciding not to dwell on too much you pulled on a plain shirt and trousers and the smartest shoes he'd put into the bag, if he wanted much more you guess he should have paid for it.

Clipping your bag against the hull using one of the loose utility straps you listened out for any more movement above, any indication that he may come back down from the bridge. You hadn't seem him again since take-off and the more time that passed the more you wanted to get it over with, whatever _it_ was going to be. Knowing full well it wasn't your place to go up you just stood in the middle of the hull, scuffing one shoe back and forth to pass the time like some chided adolescent. As more time passed you surveyed the room from the spot you'd decided to plant yourself in, looking for any hint at what he might do for a job. Well there were all the weapons, so you didn't think anything too pleasant, maybe a security enforcer protecting wealthy customers from people they'd rubbed up the wrong way.

It was only as you turned all he way round back to face the refresher that at last you spotted the carbonite chamber, it was slotted into the wall like any other piece of equipment, not like it was one of the most terrifying pieces of machinery in the galaxy. Right so he wasn't security, he was what security were hired to protect you from, and you were currently stood in the middle of his ship with not a single clue what he wanted you for. You took a cautious step forwards, curiosity quickly building to see if there was actually anyone in there right now.

Your foot hit the floor at the same time a clang shot through the room from the ladder to the bridge and you don't think you'd ever moved quicker in your life, pivoting back round to face it and dropping your face to the floor. Was that something slaves were supposed to do, not look at their masters directly? You weren't sure yet, it was your first afternoon on the job after all. A heavy thud indicated he'd reached the hull floor then... nothing. The Mandalorian didn't move for a good minute and neither did you, stare fixed unwaveringly on a grove worked into the steel walkway beneath your feet.

When he did begin to pace towards you it was insufferably slow, drawn out and intimidating as fuck, resulting in your breathing becoming shallow and shaky. Two dark tan boots came into view and stopped only a few feet away, and if the walk alone wasn't intimidating then the aura he gave off just by standing there sure was. He filled the space of the cramped walkway easily with his vast frame, the unblinking unflinching helmet face piercing into you despite not being able to see it right now.

"What are you doing there?" His voice was just as bassy as before, except now in the quieter hull you could hear the slight hoarseness it carried as well. It was rough, just like him.

"Waiting for you-" you gulped louder than you anticipated, "-master."

The Mandalorian took a half step back, "don't say that."

"I'm sorry Sir," shit you were off to a good start.

"No- no don't say that either,"

Well Stars how many titles did you have to work through before you found the one he wanted. You settled on just being quiet this time.

"Wait, what do you think you're here for?"

You couldn't tell if that was genuine curiosity in his tone or if it was just a by-product of the modulator. Better to answer regardless, "I am your humble servant." You remembered hearing once that most slavers didn't like to be called just that. An unrecognisable noise broke distorted through the helmet.

_Did he just huff at you?_

"You're not a slave,"

You raised your gaze off the ground to finally look up at him, the visor tilted down at you slightly cocked to one side, like he was just as confused as you were. The cape that was draped over him earlier was now missing, but the rest of the armour was still strapped on, you wondered if it was crimson for a reason, if it camouflaged sins that were unthinkable to all but a few. For the first time you took him in fully, gauging his size and stature and assessing every large dent or chip in the plating. He was a Mandalorian, that was about all you could tell.

"Wha- why did you buy me then?"

"I need an Engineer, the official said you were one of the better ones."

Well that bastard wasn't as much of bastard as you thought then. "So..." shit how do you even word this. "So you didn't buy me to be your whore," you'd been aiming for something a bit less blunt but that would have to do.

"No." He wasn't a man of many words was he. Now you were extra glad you hadn't strode out of the fresher starkers just to please your master, might have given off the wrong impression. The Mandalorian didn't move a muscle, he stayed staring straight at you with that unreadable bucket fixed firmly on you.

"I'm going to Bracca, I need an engineer to fix some things on the ship while I work. Can you do it?"

You didn't even know what he wanted fixing but your old manager was right, you were a pretty good engineer and making an improvement to this scrap pile wouldn't be too much of a challenge. Nodding, the tension he'd been holding in his shoulders that you hadn't noticed fell away, the Mandalorian version of a sigh of relief. He turned back towards the ladder, the conversation was over and thank the stars you hadn't needed to take your clothes off, you were one of the lucky ones after all. You rocked back and forth on your feet, encouraging the blood to return after being glued to the spot for so long. Just as you thought he was going to climb up again he twisted over one shoulder, "When I'm done I'll drop you off at an outpost. You should be able to get transport from there."

With that he zipped up the ladder leaving you alone again in the walkway of the hull, the juddering of the engines clinking any bits of equipment not tied down tightly enough. So not a slave. Not a slave and about to be dropped off somewhere far from Corellia, just like you'd always dreamed of being with all your credits. This Mandalorian guy wasn't that bad after all.


	2. Starlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, it gets spicy from here. Mature content in this chapter.

Fixing the ship had been easy enough, Bracca was a scrap planet after all and with the week you had whilst the Mandalorian was away you fulfilled the quota. First thing was the pistons on the hangar door, they were by no means the highest priority but if you had to listen to that screech one more time you would have sold yourself back into slavery. Next was the the wiring under the bridge's main control board, which took the majority of your time. Once you pried off the panel the tangle of wires that greeted you was sickening, genuinely you were shocked that this thing hadn't dropped out of hyperspace on your way there.

The Mandalorian hadn't exactly left you many tools, clearly whatever business he was in was not involved in ship maintenance and you had to procure some solder of all things from the local scrapers. It had taken you all of the first afternoon just to procure the materials and as the dusk settled you'd debated not going back to the ship. He wasn't there, you didn't know where he was, you could get your stuff then leave and he would never see you again. Ships came and went all the time from Bracca, you could have been off planet by the next morning, but as you saw the workers pick up their quarter ration for the day you decided that a free ride to the next outpost was a smarter shot. You got back that night and fell asleep on a pile of old blankets nested in the back corner of the cargo area.

Four days it had taken you to strip down the wires of the control board, reorganise them, replace the most eroded ones and resolder everything back together in a way that at least made sense. When you finally finished the first thought that popped into your head was that it wasn't good enough to pass imperial command inspection and that it needed doing again. Quickly you remembered that imperial command wouldn't be inspecting your work any more. In the evenings once it was too dark to keep working you'd lower the hatch door halfway and sit, legs dangling over the edge, watching the ships pass overhead, wondering if you'd ever come back here once you had your freedom. You hadn't seen any New Republic vessels so far, but the galaxy was a big place.

Day six and this time it was the landing gear that needed adjusting, which was easier said than done when the ship was set down on said gear. Thankfully most of the issues were solved with a heavy soak in oil and the adjusting of the bolts that held the main axels in place. Somehow you finished the work looking even grubbier than when he'd picked you up, thick oil pasted across your forehead and halfway up your arms. You managed to scavenge an old radio in the heaps of scrap and the evening passed a little quicker with music from the local sector chiming through the hull. After a frankly unreasonably long time in the refresher letting the hot water knead away the day's aches you turned up the volume and danced around the cargo hold in nothing but your shirt and underpants, a small joy you hadn't been afforded back on Corellia. 

The next morning you woke up pretty chipper, clear skies and only one job left you wanted to finish before you could say the heap of scrap was more than just that. Some of the fan blades in the engines were damaged, hence the horrendous rattling whenever the thing burst into life, but to fix that you had to get up to the engines. It wasn't a pretty sight. You had to wedge yourself in the hatch doorway to get a grip on a panel that stuck out just enough for you to heave up onto the roof, then with all the grace of a baby bantha climb onto the engine. It might have been fun if you weren't nearly five stories high, precariously leant over the edge with a welding torch between your teeth. Still could be worse.

That's when he showed up.

You didn't realise at first, you were too busy hanging upside down trying to see out of the oversized welding mask whilst not burning your hands into a crisp. It was incredible the sound that the searing flame of the torch combined with conjoining metal could make, especially when you were swearing so much under the stress even a pirate would wince. The offending fan blade stopped flapping about when you shook it, and you sat up in relief to let all the blood drain back down from your skull.

He just stood there looking up, helmet tilted to one side either in confusion or amusement. You almost slid off the engine there and then with the shock of it, so much so that it took you another moment to register the unmoving form at his feet. Whatever it was, it was big - like really big as in bigger than the Mandalorian big. He stared at you for a second more before ascending up the hangar ramp, dragging the lump behind him.

Now the carbonite chamber made more sense, easier for a bounty hunter if your prey wasn't moving. You made it off the roof and back into the hull just in time to see a Trandoshan be turned into the galaxy's biggest paper weight with the press of a single button. Then without so much as a mention of the new cargo, that was it for Bracca. The Mandalorian spent the rest of the morning inspecting your work across his ship, either making sure that he'd gotten what he paid for or that you hadn't tried to plant an explosive. Once he was certain you weren't about to blast the pair of you into the void of space the ship departed, the pistons and engines both blissfully quieter than before.

He hadn't left the cockpit since the jump to hyperspace, leaving you to share the eerily quiet hangar with at least one frozen body. Eventually you stretched out along the floor in your normal corner with the week's work heavy in your bones, thick blankets cushioning the cold steel beneath you. You turned onto your side, ready to let your heavy eyelids close, when a bulky figure emerged from the shadows.

"What the shi-" you shot upright and back into the corner, pulling the blanket up to your neck in the weakest display of self defence this bounty hunter had probably ever seen. For a guy who wore a lot of armour he sure had the sneaky setting on.

"Why are you on the floor?" his arms were crossed against his thick chest, leaning against a tower of storage crates in the centre of the cargo hold. On the floor he seemed even more intimidating - if that was even possible, and you were helpless to the urge to let your eyes wander over his frame. He was confident in every sense, there wasn't a single hesitation in anything he did but it wasn't pompous either, unlike the other men you had seen purchase the workers on Corellia. Even in his own ship every piece of armour was strapped diligently on, in fact you hadn't seen him without it at all. You'd heard stories about the people of Mandalore, but none of them were quite living up to the reality.

"I was just getting some sleep," the way he just stood there fixed on you didn't let on if you'd done anything wrong. "Should- should I move somewhere else?"

He stepped back from the cargo with a sideways gesture of his helmet, and disappeared back into the main hull towards the ladder. Gathering your pile of warm comfort you obediently followed, trying your best not to trip over in your state of fatigue. When you reached the ascent to the bridge he was already halfway up and without thinking much about it you followed, it was only when you got to the top you realised you'd hadn't come up here once in the week he'd been away. It was even less spacious up here than in the main hull, with only one wide walkway leading between the cockpit and what you could only presume was a storage room at the other end.

The Mandalorian waited until you'd clambered out of the ladder hatch, visor locked on you the whole time as you clumsily hauled the blankets up with you under one arm.

"Um... Do you want-"

He flicked a small toggle on the wall and a side panel slid up, revealing a narrow cot nestled in a concealed compartment. Your mouth pursed into a silent _oh_ at the sight of the thinly cushioned pallet before you, after a week of being on the unforgiving floor.

"You didn't think of telling me this was here before you left?" You said rather indignantly, the tiredness wiping all apprehension you probably should have held when addressing him. A short huff of air crackled through the modulator as you dumped your bundle onto the cot and right now you didn't care what he thought, you just wanted to sleep. Talking of...

"Where do you sleep then?"

He hammered the opposite panel once and the proximity suddenly became very apparent, he would be less than an arm span away whilst you lay utterly helpless, possibly about to become another credit chip in his pocket. _Wait did he even have pockets? He must have pockets somewhere in all of that._ Before you had time to overthink it any more he turned to the cockpit, pausing in the doorway.

"Get some sleep, we'll be at Nevarro in the morning," it was like the bucket told him exactly how exhausted you were. Before he closed the door shut behind him you managed to blurt out a very delayed _thank you._ He huffed again, except this time it was a little softer, and the durasteel divider shut him away. Practically falling into the pallet and smothering yourself back up in the blankets, you shut the panel back up, immersing yourself in pitch black. As you quickly drifted off the short space to the other side of the walkway lingered in your mind.

\--------------------------------

Once you landed on Nevarro just outside of a town he unloaded the carbonite slab with a familiar Trandoshan stuck inside from the chamber and transferred it to the cargo hold. Two more joined it and you were grateful that you hadn't spent another night just a few strides away from his quarries. He made you wait with the ship while he went to complete his business, giving no indication as to how long he'd be. Honestly you didn't mind too much, the sun beat hot on your cheeks as you sat on the half open cargo door just like on Bracca, the little radio you'd found ringing out into the surroundings. Eventually a group of masked people came to take the slabs away, you didn't have any proof they were supposed to but it wasn't like you had the resources to stop them if you needed to.

The Mandalorian returned shortly after, striding through the towering archway with the quiet confidence that never seemed to leave him. You couldn't help but stare his entire approach back to the ship. Your perch came up to just above his shoulders and as he looked up at you the sun glinted off his chrome nearly dazzling you. He held out one gloved hand and you stared quizzically back.

"Take it." You held out you palm in response and into it dropped a little chip, a little credit chip, the last thing you expected him to hand you.

"What's this for?"

"You did some work, you get paid. I said you weren't a slave." He placed a hand on each hip, making it extra obvious he was making a point. You slipped the chip into your trouser pocket, unable to steal your gaze away from him as he surveyed the landscape off in the distance, keeping whatever thoughts were swirling around his head to himself. He still terrified the skin off you, but maybe a little less so than when he picked you up.

"So what happens from here?" it seemed like a reasonable question given what he'd said about dropping you off somewhere. Not answering at first he continued to stare off at the mountains, well you presumed he was looking into the distance, it wasn't like you could see anything other than the dark visor. He took an unusually deep breath, like a gale was brewing under all that incomprehensible metal, then faced you directly again.

"I have some things to take care of here. You're free to leave, you fulfilled your part of the deal."

Stars, those words should have catapulted you off that ramp and into the seat of any nearby transport ship, so why did you hesitate as you picked up your one bag of belongings. You were free, you were free and off Corellia with more credits than you'd dreamed of having at this point.

You'd also seen as many new planets in the last week as you had in the rest of your life.

Grabbing the little radio and powering it down you slid off your perch, planting yourself in the dirt next to him, trying for some unbeknown reason not to look at the visor. Before you the town carried on with daily life, people bustling between huts and kids playing down the main avenue, the kind of mundane existence you'd dreamed of. The Mandalorian remained facing his ship, clearly not as enamoured by the picture as you, and he didn't move as he spoke. "I'm leaving in three hours," he lowered the ramp completely and returned to the obscured interior. You understood the implication entirely, but stepped off regardless towards the main hub.

The first two hours were spent in the cantina, embracing the luxury of having enough credits to splash on a decent drink. It drenched your throat, as soft as shimmersilk and twice as enjoyable after years of spiced ale and wine that had gone so sour it was better use as drain cleaner. You ordered a second, then a third, savouring every drop that blessed your tongue, like it was water to a moisture farmer. Absent-mindedly you started asking the bar keep questions as you drank, the mild intoxication making conversation flow easier, although afterwards you realised that him short-changing you was also helping. Things like; who was the guy in the armour, what did he do, is he dangerous, can you trust him, did he ever take the armour off?

_He's just known at the Mandalorian, he's a bounty hunter for the local guild, absolutely, if he's let you live this long then probably_ _, no and you'll never see him without the helmet - ever._

Two and a half hours.

You rolled the base of your cup on the bar, eyes fixed on the object, but mind not even in the room. If you wanted to go back you didn't have very long to make your mind up and there were some things you still needed to get. He'd literally _bought you,_ so why were you suddenly so keen to be back on that scrap pile again with a man you knew nothing about who's job was to hunt people. The bar keep took back the cup out of your hands and wiped down the area, clearly eager to get you to buy another.

"How often does the New Republic pick people up from here?" You troubled him with one final question.

"Pick people up?" he pondered it for a moment, wiping down glasses as he thought. "If you can pay them they may drop you off at one of the busier planets nearby. Most people that end up on Nevarro just wind up working for the guild."

"Thanks..." you trailed off, thoughts blinding your brain like stars in hyperspace. Fuck what where you doing.

You sprinted out of the cantina without so much as a goodbye.

Luckily some of the stalls were still trading, and in haste you purchased a thick jacket, a pair of heavy duty boots, and a new antenna for the radio. _Two hours fifty_. Thank the stars the town wasn't very big as you would have gotten lost anywhere else as you raced back through the streets searching for the giant arch you'd walked under. You hit a dead end at one point and your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach, almost certain that time was up and you'd missed him. No, you couldn't be far. Retracing your steps you found your way back to the main avenue, the archway perfectly framing the ship still parked just beyond it, only coming out of a sprint when you were through the structure.

The ramp was still down, but you couldn't see the distinctive metal frame from outside, but as you put one foot up the scraping of crates settled your fears. You reached the cargo hold to see the Mandalorian strapping in new supplies ready for take-off, cape billowing in the breeze coming in from outside. He didn't stray from his task as you stood there, carrying on until he was satisfied that everything was in its rightful place, just like him it seemed. You waited, adrenaline pumping so vivaciously through your veins you were certain he could have heard your heartbeat across the hold even without the help of the technology in his helmet. Finally he looked up and leant against the newly stacked load, and you swore that if you could see his face he would be smirking.

"I figured you'd probably want the radio, can get quiet here on your own," you held up the little device like it wasn't the most thinly veiled excuse you'd ever come up with.

The Mandalorian gave the briefest laugh and it warmed you more than any luxurious liquor ever could. _Stars he fucking laughed._ Taking another stride deeper in the ramp began to close up behind you, and the visor never left you for a second, somehow making you feel more exposed than you had coming out the fresher on the first day.

"So what do I call you?"

\------------------------------------

That was four months ago. Four months on Corellia could feel like a lifetime if you were in the wrong business, and working on an imperial shipyard was certainly the wrong business, looking back you couldn't believe how inconsequential your life had been. Now, four months had barely begun to scratch the surface of what you thought was possible in the galaxy - in fact all it had done was multiply your urge to see more. Every new planet made you more insatiable to see more, not that you ever got to see much on the ground needing to stay with the ship the whole time.

You'd quickly found that the piece of scrap was called the Razor Crest, a far more majestic name than it deserved given you still clung onto a support every time it took off - _just in case._ Now it made sense why he wanted an engineer, this thing broke something whenever it had to do anything from turning on the heaters to landing in a blizzard, it was a never-ending occupation. This meant that when you landed he would go off to hunt his quarry, and you stayed behind fixing the newest issue and exploring the vicinity of landing site. Sometimes that was more enjoyable depending on which planet he was hunting on.

Dantooine had been one of the first stop offs and when you took the first tentative step off the ship you were adamant that it was a dream, you were still tucked into your cot in the walls of the ship, because nowhere could possible be this green. Rolling planes of lush grass spread before you, colossal trees dotting the horizon bigger than most of the buildings on Corellia and so much more beautiful. Your jaw shamelessly hung open at the sight, which the Mandalorian seemed to find entertaining as he cracked up through the modulator, prepping his chosen weapons for the job.

"If you're going to go wandering, just make sure the ship stays in sight," he warned over your shoulder, far closer than you thought he was, the same brassy melody resounding across the fresh air between you. It tingled your skin somehow more than the scenery did.

He said he wouldn't be gone more than a few days and as you lay in your new bed at night your thoughts continuously wandered to him; what was he doing now, how many people had he killed, what did he look like under all that metal? You thought about the way he'd looked up at you sitting on the engines, helmet tilted, dangerous criminal incapacitated at his feet like it was nothing. On the second night you were defenceless to the same thoughts as your hand disappeared eargerly under the blankets and between your legs.

A less pleasant planet had been Florrum, there was noticeably less green here and tenfold more criminals eying up the Razor Crest and if they hadn't seen a ruthless Mandalorian emerge from it they might have taken their chances. You had exterior repairs to do, but as soon as you were finished you returned to the safe confinement of the hull, radio turned down as low as possible with just enough noise coming from it to drown out the vultures. Thank the stars the Mandalorian was only gone for one night, he came back the next morning pushing a big-mouthed Zabrak in front of him - he'd been smart enough to not try and fight the hunter.

As they approached you finished up rewiring the hatch controls and leant back against the ship, admiring how natural your new companion was carrying more firepower than most separatist droids. The Zabrak noticed you as he started to ascend the ramp, a slimy grin creeping across his face when he spotted you, malice forming in his eyes. The air was sucked through his teeth, "you here to keep me entertained in my final days as a free man-"

He was spun round and a fist swiftly inserted into his abdomen, doubling him over with a pained yelp and sinking him to his knees. The velocity at which the Mandalorian had reacted stunned you, even with all the armour he'd hit the guy before you'd even registered the comment. Coughing thick beads of blood onto the ramp the Zabrak fought to get air back into his lungs, instantly regretting the crude comments towards you, and to be honest you were surprised as he was at the gesture. The Mandalorian wrestled him into the carbonite chamber with excessive force, like he really beat him about even though the Zabrak had long given up trying anything else.

The night you left Florrum your needy hand returned to your flush heat, the image of him breaking that guy over what he said to you replaying in your mind, and your other hand had to pin down over your mouth to stop the noise you made from being audible.

Now you sat in the co-pilot chair of the Razor Crest, ribbons of stars passing overhead as you glided through hyperspace, the cockpit quiet as dawn except for the rhythmic beeping of the ship's life support systems. The chair spun back and forth slightly as you rocked you foot on the floor, entranced by the display the galaxy was putting on for you. It was rare you got to be alone up here when he wasn't on the hunt, usually he piloted and you either sorted out the hull below or sat in your current chair behind him, idly talking about the next planet you were heading to.

The last job had been rough, he was gone for nearly two weeks and there were times when you were a heartbeat away from flying the ship out to his signal despite the protests he would have made. You had stopped sleeping properly, getting only a couple of hours in at a time before getting up to check that his signal was still moving at the very least before heading back to your cot, worrying, then repeating the process. When he finally returned you felt actual real air return to your lungs after so much baited breath, thanking the Stars that he was back in one piece.

One piece was a stretch. His armour had numerous new dents - large ones - and for the first time since travelling with him you watched as he struggled to haul the quarry up onto the ship. It wasn't like the target could help either, it was dead. Once the quarry was locked into carbonite you'd made the Mandalorian get into the fresher, not for cleanliness but because you were worried that if he kept the armour on he'd neglect any self preservation required. You'd placed the limited supply of bacta spray and bandages outside the fresher door, hoping that he'd have enough sense to attempt to fix himself up before getting back into the suit.

After hours entranced by the images of hyperspace you finally heard the hiss of the bridge door opening behind you, relief flooding your system - he was well enough to get up here at least. He crept into the cockpit with the usual lack of conversation, collapsing into the pilot's chair at an uncomfortable angle and grunting as he sat. You watched as he awkwardly tilted to one side, using only his left hand to check through the ship's systems, twitching whenever he leant too far over; something was very wrong. Stars, it wasn't your place to say anything, you weren't a medic you were a damn engineer, and you'd bet all your credits he'd been through far worse than this. Still...

Medics are just engineers for people right?

"Do you need me to take a look at that?" your voice contrasted drastically to the hushed room, more confident than you expected given your question. He ignored you at first, continuing to adjust the hyperspace coordinates to stay on course, left arm working over time to keep up the facade he was putting on.

"Mando?"

"It's nothing," he leant back into one corner of the chair, another sharp inhale of air echoing through the modulator probably far louder than he would have liked. _Fine_ , if you were playing that game. Flicking a toggle to your right a hum that had been in the background the whole time stopped, the absence of the noise more noticeable than the presence of it, and ice crystals started to form in the corners of the transparisteel. He turned to look at it over his shoulder slowly, _dangerously slowly,_ knowing exactly what you were trying to do. You'd just turned off the external heaters, soon the transparisteel would be completely iced up, more of a nuisance than a problem, but not ideal in any sense. If his right side was fine it wouldn't be an issue to lean over and flick the switch back.

He didn't move a muscle.

You both sat in silence as he stared at the switch, the swift realisation of what you'd done setting in. Ice had crept up about a third of the pane now, the crystals overlapping in an elaborate tapestry that you might have found beautiful if it wasn't for the current situation. You flicked the switch back as he turned to face forwards, sensing the tension from him brewing. You'd really done it this time. Continuing to sit in silence you couldn't tear your eyes away from him as the unnaturally shallow breathing softened a little, and the visor drooped to face the floor. Taking it as a good sign you slowly got up from your seat and stepped over to him, trying to appear as gentle as you could.

Dropping to your knees beside the chair he didn't shift the visor from you, chest rising and falling shakily, frozen with apprehension. The first thing you did was try to pry his elbow away from his side to assess the damage, he didn't like that. His left hand shot out and grabbed the side of your arm with a ferociously strong grip, sharp pins of pain instantly forming under his fingertips. Waiting for a moment until the grip softened you held very still, hoping he wouldn't pull away from you.

"I need to take off this piece," you nodded towards the pauldron, you didn't need to be much of a medic to spot that his shoulder was dislocated, but you wanted to be certain. The helmet bounced once, and with every ounce of care you could force into your hands you undid the bindings that held the armour on, pulling it away from his shaking form. Your hands brushed against the dark undershirt that covered him and he tensed up under the feeling, you wondered just how long it had been since he'd felt another person's skin against his own. Gently feeling around the area his fingers closed even tighter and the shallow breathing became increasingly irregular, rugged through the modulator.

Fuck if this went wrong you were going to be the next body in the carbonite chamber. "I need to put the shoulder back into place okay? I'll count down from three."

"Just get it- _fuck-_ "

You popped his shoulder back midway through his sentence, the bone sinking back into place with a sickening pop. His grasp on your arm clamped down even harder, you were definitely going to have thick bruises there in the morning not that your main worry was that right now. An unintelligible string of curses trailed coarse through the helmet as he shuddered beneath your hands, shaking with the simultaneous pain and relief.

You kept still whilst he settled, suddenly becoming very aware of the muscles under your touch, thick and well-worked, rippling as his body adjusted to the pain. _Stars he was warm._ You knew he was a man under all the battered metal, but now it was raw and undeniable, there was real flesh beneath his shield. As his breathing became deeper again, tension draining from his form, the hand on you relaxed as well, but he didn't pull away completely. What was it like for him, feeling someone's touch after who knew how long. Shifting your focus from his shoulder to the helmet your own breath hitched as the visor stared straight back at you, excruciatingly opaque even in such close proximity.

Unaware of your own actions you kept your hands planted on him, a strong heartbeat pulsing under your palms, your own quickening free of your control. Sliding his grip from your arm he grabbed a fistful of your shirt and tugged it across, leading you up and over him, and you were helpless against the motion. The helmet remained locked onto you as he pulled you onto his knees until your legs were straddling the chair, a deep throb growing in your core. His mended arm came up to grapple your waist, and this time it was you who exhaled sharply under the contact, heart racing wildly.

You didn't have a clue what the fuck he wanted but you weren't going to stop him.

A gloved hand crept under the hem of your shirt, brushing against the fevered skin of your stomach and around your ribs. You bit the inside of your lip at the feeling, the leather cold and raising goosebumps wherever it landed. His thigh plates were digging into the back of your legs so you shifted your weight, resulting in what you could only describe as a low growl from the modulator. If you weren't putty in his hold already you were now. His hand slid further up until it met the soft underside of your breast, drawing a needy moan from your lips. Reacting to the noise he cupped it more eagerly, kneading the flesh between his fingers as his other hand swiftly joined underneath your shirt on the other side to do the same. Another moan, louder this time, escaped you as his thumb swept over your hard nipple, any self-control you previously had being stolen away.

The Mandalorian squeezed it harder this time, and your back arched with the feeling, the heat in your core spreading to between your legs with a feral desire. The movement broke him, as all at once he stood up- taking you with him - then flipping you around practically slamming you back into the seat. The air was thrown from your lungs as his broad chest pressed up against you, visor fixated on your face, drinking up every whimper you made. Just as you thought you were regaining some self-control his hand dropped from your chest and dragged unbearably slow down the seam between the legs of your trousers.

You melted into the chair, chest arching up and a shamelessly loud whine echoing into the cockpit. Reacting in kind he rubbed up again, applying more pressure and sending a wave of pleasure electric through every fibre of your being. He took his time, increasing the pressure exactly where it felt best, the other hand wrapped under your leg, gripping tight over your trousers.

Just as you thought he was stopping he snatched your waistband and jerked it down, dropping the material round your ankles as the air pricked icy against your flushed skin. He didn't dive back in straight away, helmet slowly sinking from your face to his new target, gloved hands sliding up the outside of your thighs.

When his thumb returned to your now exposed heat your eyes clamped shut with an explosion of pleasure, spreading your legs as much as the seat would allow. Slowly at first he started applying small circles to your clit, surges of ecstasy rippling through you with every rotation. As the speed built so did the volume of your moans, your hand instinctively coming up to cover your mouth, but as you did he grabbed it and gripped it tight in his own. You could feel the wetness building, slick under his touch as circles turned into long strokes.

He whipped out behind him, hitting a button on the control board and you forced your eyelids open just in time to see the emergency shields close over the transparisteel, the display of hyperspace being shut out. Once they locked in the cockpit was shrouded in complete darkness, the sounds of him shifting position the only giveaway of his presence. He didn't return to you instantly and you propped yourself up on your elbows as he continued to adjust something on his person.

"Lay back," the deep baritone of his voice cut through the hushed space, velvety to your ears.

_Wait the modulator wasn't velvety, it was static and noisy, that meant-_

Your questioned was answered as a solid tongue suddenly sunk between your folds, sending your back crashing down into the seat. He lapped you up as eagerly as you melted into him, your hands clawing at the chair arms with each pass, desperately rocking your hips so he could slip his tongue deeper.

"That's it... good girl..." he urged you on between breaths, his hands sliding back up under your shirt to caress your cleavage. The words were their own euphoria, the vibrations of his low tone traveling up your stomach as he sucked gently on you.

" _Fuck-"_ you'd barely laid a hand on him in comparison yet he seemed to be getting off on this as much as you were. "You like that?" he murmured into you as his tongue continued to stroke up and down your pulsating heat, breaking the rhythm occasionally to suck on your clit.

"Mando I- I'm-" you tried to fight some words out, but the more he tasted you the less control you had, shuddering now with pleasure. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, that the high couldn't get better, he submerged two fingers wickedly slowly into you. Moans turned into cries as he curled them up inside, teasing every twitch of pleasure from your aching core.

You twisted and contorted with the motion, legs spread as wide as the seat would allow, feeling the ecstasy grow inside like a wave building out from shore. He licked your centre again, burning you like fire but in the best way imaginable, fingers pounding you now with a damaging ferocity. Through guttural moans you managed to whimper, "Mando I can't stop-"

"What are you going to do?" His voice growled in response, pure and unadulterated lust searing through the tone, sending you even closer to the edge.

" _Fuck-_ I'm... I'm going to cum," you cried out to him as a hungry thumb swiped circles on your clit as his fingers manipulated you inside. The wave that had been building burst the gates, the blistering overwhelming orgasm rocketing through every muscle, eyes rolling back with indescribable delight. Your back arched once more, displaying your soaking slit as the pleasure dripped down your inner thighs, the Mandalorian groaning his own pleasure into your heat as it hit him.

Your senses gradually simmered down again, sporadically shaking as the final streams of elation ran through your blood, sweating and breathing heavy after the exertion. Slowly removing his fingers from you he dragged messy kisses up your legs, lapping up the sticky wetness and Stars you hadn't even appreciated the fullness of his lips until now.

"Good girl."

Fuck, you nearly came all over again with those two words as the baritone rumbled between your legs. He pulled away, pressing something on the console and disappearing out of the bridge as the shields retracted again, rivers of stars revealing themselves above you. Your chest heaved as you watched the galaxy race past, the display no longer seeming quite as wondrous after that affair. You lay slumped in the chair while you coherency returned, overcome with exhaustion and pleasure simultaneously and too overwhelmed to attempt to move.

After a while the cockpit door hissed open again, almost inaudible footsteps approaching behind you. You wanted to turn around, but the dance of hyperspace held your focus, it was easier to just stare up than attempt to talk after all that.

"What are you thinking?" his deep voice drifted to you, the crackle of the modulator overlaid back over what you now knew was his gorgeous tone. You raised a weak arm and pointed to the blur overhead, chest still too shaky to try many words.

"Starlight," your arm sunk back as you watched space fly past.

A hand gently caressed the top of your head and if you could have guessed it might have sounded like he was smiling.

"Starlight..." he echoed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written smut before, so I'd love some feedback/constructive criticism. Thank you x


	3. Sweeping Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing but smut in this chapter, very NSFW, please read at your discretion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much harder to write than I thought it would be, but enjoy!

You lay in your cot staring at the enclosed ceiling wondering if it had all been some kind of fever dream, the heat of his tongue, the grasp of his hand on your thigh, the feeling of his fingers curling up inside you. It had to be, right - _he hadn't taken you in the cockpit like that._ Everything about it spun your mind like you were free falling out of the stratosphere, unable to decipher what was reality any more. His loud groans between your legs still rumbled through your core, so vivid in your memory that his face could still be buried there, rocketing you into heavenly delight. It had been over before you'd really registered it had begun, and now you couldn't help but crave more of it, desperate to taste the stars like that again.

It had been a day since you'd fixed his shoulder and nothing had changed - literally nothing. You'd risen in the morning to find him cleaning weapons in the hull, running cloth along the length of the pulse rifle with tantalising care, raising the helmet to look at you as you descended the ladder. He returned to his task as you went to the fresher to clean up, part of you hesitant to wash the echo of him from your skin. As you emerged fresh again he didn't even look, just carried on checking the sights and making minute adjustments to the grip position. For the majority of the day you'd sat back up on the bridge rewiring some of the backup systems, only stopping when he brought up your rations, unfazed when he left immediately to go eat his. By this point you were fully aware that he couldn't remove his helmet when someone else could see, even to eat or drink.

_But he'd taken it off last night._

Your sleep that night was even more restless than when he left for hunts, the painfully close distance to his cot prominent in your mind, so close yet it could have been on the other side of the galaxy. Sighing deeply you pressed the switch to open up the wall panel, swinging your legs back onto the steel floor and stretching out with a big yawn. He was an enigma, it could take a lifetime to figure him out so you guessed you'd have to try and go back to normal. Shuffling over to the bridge, the door hissed open and you ran fingers through your tangled hair, you hadn't worried much about your appearance before so why should you start now.

"Morning," you sleepily mewed at the familiar form sat in the pilot's chair, pristine chrome helmet reflecting the glow of hyperspace.

"We're still a good few hours from Rishi," he didn't turn around as you plonked down into the seat behind him, drawing your legs up to your chest and resting your head on your knees.

"What jobs need doing before we get there?"

"Nothing. Everything's working fine."

" _Woah_ miracles do happen," the sarcasm was thick in your voice and a soft huff of air broke through the modulator in response. Hey, it only took four months but at least he laughed at your jokes now.

You admired him from behind as he worked over the controls, unable to resist the urge just to watch him like you were staring at a supernova. Every movement he made was deliberate, calculated to a fault, and he didn't do anything if he didn't want to especially not pick up a dirty engineer from Corellia. Ever present, the armour never seemed to get in his way or slow him down, despite the immense weight you imagined it bore - it was just part of him, maybe that's why you'd come to admire it so much. Each new dent was a testament to the sheer power he wielded, and a stark reminder of what he did every time he left you behind on the Razor Crest. 

You felt your pulse quicken the more you thought about it - _thought about him,_ blood pounding in your ears drowning out the whirrs of the ship in the background. Had he meant to do all those things or had the pain of his injury clouded his judgement, had you taken advantage of him in that state. The vivid memory of him grasping your shirt and pulling you across him flashed in your head, how sure he'd been when he'd closed the shields so he could taste you. No, he'd been more sure of his actions last night than you had of anything in your life. 

There had to be something on the ship that needed fixing, there was always something, you couldn't just sit there and swim in the ecstasy of a memory that might never happen again. Getting back up again you stretched away the last of the restless night, the pilot's chair swinging round as you did, and Stars there was nothing you wanted more than to catch him staring at you the way you did at him, but you avoided the gaze of the visor. 

"Going somewhere?" the modulator buzzed, obscuring the bassy voice that you badly wanted to hear again, _hear it as he praised you_. 

"Hold could use a good tidy, you trod so much muck through it after Kashyyyk," it was a really menial task, but it was better than sitting in the bridge caught up in your thoughts of him. 

He paused, helmet unmoving, "You really want to go sweep?"

The blood flushed to your cheeks quicker than you could blink and you prayed it wasn't as obvious as it felt. There were plenty of other things you'd rather do- _no, stop it._ "Well someone needs to do it and I don't think you're too handy with a broom."

"What makes you say that?" he leant on one arm of the seat, radiating confidence as usual as he stared you down, perched like a king on his throne. Stars he was mesmerising, and that was with you trying not to look too long.

"Mando I've seen you handle a blaster more times than I can count, and I don't think I've ever seen you tidy the ship."

"I put all the equipment away,"

"Doesn't count," you scolded him mockingly, "if you left all your bounty hunter equipment out we wouldn't be able to move around the ship."

"You mean you wouldn't be able to dance around the cargo hold."

"Yes exactly-" you froze when the realisation of what he said hit you. That was back on Bracca when he'd been on the first hunt and you'd entertained yourself to the radio, which meant he'd gone back over the ship's security cameras.

_Which meant he'd seen you dancing around the ship in your underwear._

"Well I better get to work," you practically flew from the bridge before he could respond, and before the embarrassment graced your cheeks any more than it was already. Leaping down from the ladder you flung yourself into the cargo hold and out of any possible sight, breathing heavy from the shock. Fuck you must have looked like a clown on the footage, circling round the cramped hold dressed like - well like you had, prancing like some cantina entertainer across the floor of his beloved ship. You buried your face in your hands, as if hiding from it would wipe the image from both your minds. 

Had he accidentally stumbled over the footage when he was making sure you weren't about to blow the ship up, or had he gone back later deliberately to watch you? One of those options sounded much nicer in your head. You stood groaning into your palms until your face returned to a normal temperature and you were certain he hadn't followed you down to chastise you. 

Sweeping. Sweeping was something you could do to take your mind off it. Grabbing the broom that was stored in one of the narrow storage compartments you set about cleaning the hold, focusing so intently on removing every last spec of mud that you couldn't worry about what the Mandalorian had said. It worked for the most part, you went meticulously across the steel floor, a pile gradually building by the ramp so you could push it off when you finally landed. Sweeping the floor was so simple and mundane compared to everything else about your life now, and you actually enjoyed getting caught up in the mindless task.

So caught up in fact that you didn't hear him climb down the ladder behind you until you turned around to come face to face with a chest full of Mandalorian iron. Your first thought was that it was a quarry come back to life and in your terror you swung the broom through the air at the figure in wild panic.

He caught it so effortlessly it was almost like he could predict what you were going to do before you did it, snatching the pole from your grasp before it even threatened to get near him. _Shit_ \- the force of him taking it away sent you stumbling backwards, tripping over the grooves in the floor and landing hard on your ass in the middle of the cargo hold. Wow, you were really making all sorts of grand impressions at the moment. Defeated by your own incompetence you just sat on the floor, resting back on your hands so you could glare up at him.

"Shit I'm- I didn't mean-" he faltered on his words, and for the first time since he'd picked you up you were actually watching Mando get flustered. You played into it, keen to shift some of the embarrassment away from you.

"No it's fine, just throw your engineer across the ship they'll be okay." You rubbed the side of your leg, really playing into the whole injured person act. The tension in him visibly dissipated as he quickly caught onto your game; he hunted people for a living you weren't sure why you thought you could fool him.

"Oh yeh?" and suddenly his voice was _wicked_. Pinning you to the floor just with a tilt of the visor his tone became even deeper, like it came from the very pit of his chest, rugged and painfully muffled by the modulator. You raised an eyebrow at him as a challenge, wondering just how far he would take it. 

With that lightning speed you'd seen him utilise so many times before he bent down and seized one of your ankles in his gloved hand, and if your breath wasn't already taken by the sudden movement then it would have been by the touch of cold leather against your bare skin. Striding towards the front of the hull he dragged you effortlessly behind him, free leg flailing as you tried to wiggle free. 

"Sorry, crew members that can't work get put in the carbonite chamber," he continued to pull you across the thankfully clean floor, grip firm and unyielding. _He was joking right?_ He wouldn't put you in that thing?

Of course he wouldn't, he just playing around - but still he frightened the life out of you. "Come on- put me down!" you thrashed about, latching your hands onto one of the tied down crate towers as you passed it, yanking your torso as he stretched you as much as your bones would allow. "I can work I promise!" you cried out into the ship as a surrender.

You legs hit the deck with a loud thud as he dropped the hostage ankle, instantly stepping over and hoisting you back onto your feet with two strong arms under your own. The now familiar heat in your core returned, swelling as you became trapped between the crates and his powerful frame. Tilting his helmet down to stare at you his breathing registered in your ears, deep yet surprisingly shaky, the smile on your face starting to drop as you felt the plate armour on his thighs press against your legs. Fuck you'd been trying to avoid this, but as he put one hand up against the crates next to your head you resolve faded into nothingness, heat swimming down to between your legs - again. 

A lump caught in your throat, the sight of him towering over you was terrifying no matter how much you trusted he wasn't going to freeze you into a carbonite block. His arm was so close to your face you could smell him, the subtle hint of plasma residue and worn leather, lingering sweat and musk that shouldn't have turned you on the way it did. He continued to gaze at you for a moment before lowering his visor to your hips and Stars you'd never felt so naked despite being dressed head to toe. 

"Are you sure you can work?" he was quieter now, even more deadly as a result, but the laboured rise and fall of his chest indicated this was having the same affect on him as it was on you. 

"I- I can," the words barely escaped as a whisper.

"Are- Are you sure?" he tone softened, requesting permission in the most Mando way imaginable, with very few words but the implication clear as day. You nodded, eyes wide with wonder and anticipation, willing your hands not to reach out and pull him swiftly into you, knowing that on this ship things were done his way. Slowly, one hand faintly drifted up the inside of your legs, you were so enamoured with him you almost didn't notice it at first until the sudden goosebumps sprung up under your shirt. If last night had been rushed and impulsive, this was exactly the opposite, this was as calculated and deliberate as he was. 

Light as a feather his fingers traced up the seam of your trousers until they were hovering just over your centre, not touching where you wanted him to but so unbearably close. Biting the inside of your lip you fought to keep your eyes locked onto the opaque visor, somehow knowing that his eyes were fixed on yours noting every movement you made. Gloved fingers came away from the wall and cautiously stroked down the muscles in your neck, the leather supple and coming to rest in the small between your collar bones. His index and middle finger trailed up your throat until they met the bottom of your chin, tilting it up so you had to look down your nose at him.

He hadn't touched you yet and still you could feel the wetness begin to gather in your panties, cunt twitching with every movement he made like it was urging him to hurry up. Pressing up at last, the first moan filtered through your lips as two fingers connected with you through the fabric, not moving further but already making you tremble. He held you there for a second before gradually tracing delicate circles over your clit, the lightness of it so tormenting that you were sure you'd soak through your trousers before long.

As he applied more pressure you were powerless against the urge to let your eyes flutter shut, clenching under his touch, smirking as the sight of you moaning made him speed up. His voice broke across your whines of pleasure, deliciously raspy and coarse, "Keep your eyes shut."

His request registered with you, but you were so lost in the pleasure of him to verbally respond, settling instead for a low _mhmm._

"Promise me you'll keep them shut."

The gravity of what he was asking set in. You wouldn't do that to him, betray his trust after what he'd done for you, but you were worried that you'd falter accidentally. This wasn't just a whimsical fantasy, this was his very existence that he was placing in your hands, something that if you saw couldn't be taken back.

Your eyes remained closed, "on my life," you wanted to say something that held a little more weight, but he'd given you back your life again, the least you could do was offer it up in sacrifice.

The hand under you chin slipped away leaving just the one placed firmly between your legs and you waited with baited breath, listening for any kind of movement. There was a rustle of his clothing against the armour then - almost silently - the clink of metal on metal. Holding still you waited, desperate to feel him on you again, the gloved fingers over your trousers not nearly enough any more. "Mando?"

"I'm here Starlight."

 _Oh fuck_.

A day, that's all it had been since you heard the velvet of his unmodulated voice, yet you drunk it up like it was oxygen. The bass of it, captivating you in its natural warmth with a nickname you didn't even know he'd given you. Lost in the sound you were taken by surprise as lips suddenly pressed to your chin, lingering fervently as they travelled down you neck, nipping at your flesh. They were even more delectable than you remembered, full and softer than you'd expected, the spatter of facial hair tickling your skin as he planted kisses down the exposed lines to your collarbones.

The hand between your legs sprung back into life with urgency, rubbing thick strokes over the fabric already sending you towards oblivion. "Is this what you wanted?" The words vibrated against your skin, holding inexplicable power over you. He pulled at the waistband of your trousers, cold air rushing down your legs as he slid a hand down your stomach, dragging another wanton moan from your lips when you felt the warm touch graze your clit. 

_His warm touch_. Somehow he'd managed to remove the glove from one hand and you were unconditionally at the mercy of every minor twitch his fingers made. Just like his lips they were so much softer than you expected, well-built and already slick between your folds as you gradually dripped onto him. The feeling sent him over the edge, his lips on your neck parted as he sucked on your flesh, purple marks rising where he went, two eager fingers suddenly thrusting up inside you. 

"Fuck- _Mando_ -" you mewled his name as he caressed your cunt, thumb still rubbing circles as the fingers flexed up in you, the familiar wave growing in you. 

Pressing up against you the effect of this on him became apparent, his solid member digging against your torso along with half the armour. "You've thought about this haven't you?" 

You couldn't answer, gasping for air already as your pleasure pooled in his palm, but at your disobedience he started working faster, one of your knees buckling with the increased elation. " _Mmm_... I- I have... I- last night wasn't- _fuck_ \- enough," you were already so close to climax, but you wanted to hold on in case he stopped when you were finished like last time. You wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel. 

Reaching out, eyes still closed, the pads of your fingers braced against the front of his crotch, his erect cock irresistible to your grasp. You traced the outline lightly, a smirk coming to you when you felt him tense up and groan under the feeling, your own euphoria making you more daring than you could imagine. His head fell into the crook of your neck as you squeezed tighter through the material, the feeling of his forehead, _his actual real flesh_ hot against you as you both breathed heavy. 

Confidence still surging through your veins you dropped away from his head, sinking to your knees in front of him, hand still wrapped firmly around him. Part of you was glad you had to keep your eyes shut, you weren't one to get shy doing this sort of thing, but he was unlike anyone you'd been with before. Fumbling around blinded you grappled with his trousers until the front came open, and you pulled him free into your hands, the sound he made an indescribable mix of lust and ache.

Fuck he was big, you should have seen it coming with the quiet self-confidence and dangerous presence, but this was something else. You wrapped you hand around his base, coming to terms with the girth you held as he leant one arm against the crates. Feeling him spasm in your grasp you tentatively reached your tongue out to brush his head, landing inside halfway up his shaft underestimating his size. He moaned at the feeling, a low sigh of relief, "that's it... good girl."

The praise spurred you on as your tongue slowly dragged up the thick ridge on the underside of his cock until you reached the tip, fluttering over the top, the salty precum alighting your senses. It lulled there as he twitched slightly, gently flicking across the top until it glistened with your spit. Using your hand to guide it you gradually took it further into your mouth, tongue flat along the underneath so you could slide him in better. A hand shot to the back of your head, grasping a fistful of hair to steady you as you took him all the way to the back of your throat.

"Fuck- fuck that's good..." he rasped above you, the raw voice making you even wetter as you started to bob your head back up. You sunk back down again, enveloping another half inch between your lips, hand carefully cupping his tight balls. He lost even more control and started to rock into your mouth, the hand on the back of your head holding you in place. Water pricked into your eyes as you took each thrust, the noise profane as you lubricated each ridge and vein throbbing at the feeling of your rough tongue along his shaft.

He pulled you away, the strands of drool still roped between his tip and your lips whilst you gasped for air. You wanted to please him so badly, wanted to make him feel even half as good as he'd made you feel, his groans of elation encouraging you. Diving back into him you met your own fingers as they caressed his balls and your hot tongue swept over and dabbed across the base. This time he cried out- primal and animalistic, and as he did you felt your own bliss start to run down your inner thighs.

Grabbing your jaw forcefully in his hand he pulled you back up until you were standing before slamming your back into the crates, grunting as your tongue just flicked his tip on the way up. "Are you sure you can take this?"

There was aggression in his voice, but a carnal kind; you could say no and he'd stop in an instant. "Mando please..." you were desperate to feel him now, to take him inside you and ride him until you saw stars behind your eyes.

"What do you want Starlight?"

"You know what I want."

He pulled his thumb across your bottom lip, the taste of your own slick still lingering on his skin. "Say it."

"I want-" come on just say it, "I want you to fuck me." Just saying the words made you cream a little, the command he had over everything you did right now.

In a flash he reached down, taking your trousers with him until they fell to your ankles and as he stood back up both arms wrapped around the backs of your legs. He lifted you up with such effortlessness it would have been astonishing if you weren't otherwise preoccupied, your clothing getting left behind in a pile on the floor. Both legs wrapped around his torso, arms linking behind his neck as your back braced against the crates and you were suddenly grateful for how securely he strapped them down.

The pulsing tip of his cock brushed against your folds, the pang of desperate need rocketing up you, coming out as a string of moans. His fingers dug into your legs as he held himself outside you, swaying his hips enough to graze your clit with each stroke, wetting himself with your cum. Pinching an earlobe between his teach he continued to tease you, "keep those eyes shut."

Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his cock sliding into you, the tightness as you took his size and the guttural groan that he released as he sunk deeper. You winced when he held you halfway in before slowly pulling back again, orgasm already so close given the position. When he pushed back in you couldn't help but grip his hair as you gasped out, locks longer than you imagined but divine to feel knotted between your fingers. He delved in until you were fully hilted, your cunt aching at accommodating every inch he had until his armour pressed against the underside of your ass.

He started to thrust harder and even with your eyes closed they rolled into the back of your head as he hit the spot deep within you that caused you to cry out.

" _Fuck_ \- good girl- fuck you take it so well," he grunted appraisal with each pound until he he was going too fast for the words to keep up. The sound of his hips hitting your bare flesh was ecstatic and you felt your climax rush to the surface, desperately trying not to finish before he did. He must have felt you clench inside to hold it back- somehow he sped up even more in response. "Are you going to cum for me?"

"Mando- not yet... fuck _please,"_ you cried out at him at the new pace, the sensation of his ridged shaft grinding against your walls overwhelming you. You couldn't hold it back much longer, not at this pace.

"I said... cum for me-" as he demanded your climax he rammed into you so hard you could almost feel the bruises spring up there and then. With the next thrust you broke, the wave of orgasm flooding your entire system as you cried out, shaking violently as you came for him. His member instantly became drenched in your pleasure, sliding in and out with no resistance except for the involuntary spasm of your cunt. Your head lolled forwards as your mind overloaded with the climax, everything about you becoming numb except for the now hyper sensitivity of your heat.

He didn't stop as you came, in fact he continued to pound you with such power that your orgasm continued with him. "That's it- yes..." his words blurred in your ears, nothing except raspy baritone and pure pleasure filling your head. "Fuck- I'm-" his frame suddenly locked up beneath you, balls pressed hard against your crotch as he submerged completely into you. Your insides became hot as he released his load inside you, groaning absurdly into the side of your neck as he tensed up.

Even when he pulled out you continued to shake against you will, the adrenaline still pumping through you and making every sensitive area alive with electricity. Gently he placed your legs back onto solid ground, except they instantly gave out underneath you so that he had to help hold you up.

"That's my girl," you felt him plant soft kisses between your breasts over your shirt as he crouched down, tongue drifting over your stomach as he went. As he came level with your heat he lapped up the mess he'd made - just like before - the careful flicks over your clit causing your muscles to fail you even further. Once he'd thoroughly consumed every ounce you could give him his face left you almost drunkenly swaying in the wreckage he'd left behind. You'd expected many things from him, but this?

This was beyond anything the stars could ever show you.

When he finally stood back up again he pulled you into him, letting your heavy head rest on his still shaking shoulders. The pauldrons were a bit uncomfortable, but there was no where else in the galaxy you'd rather be. He held you like that until you eventually regained the strength to lift your eyes up to him, the familiar glint of a chrome helmet back in its usual place, baring you from everything you wanted to feel back on your skin.

"Are you okay?"

"As long as I never need to use my legs again I think I'll be fine," you quietly glowed back at him, both surprised and not at the care in his voice that filtered through even with the modulator back in place.

"Come on Starlight, let's get you back up top." He guided you round to the ladder and back up to the top deck, strong hands supporting the back of your thighs every time you shuddered trying to ascend the rungs. He even let you grab onto him as you fell into your cot in the walls, the lack of sleep last night quickly catching up with you.

"I'll wake you up when we get to Rishi," as he turned away to head back to the cockpit you caught his hand in yours, sleep quickly taking over you even if you'd tried to stop it. The gloves were back on, you didn't mind all that much you were used to his covered figure, but you also would have given anything to feel the brush of the real him again.

Then again, the armour was the real him wasn't it.

"I don't mind sweeping more often," you purred at him, already halfway back into the embrace of unconsciousness. Tenderly he placed your hand back over your curled up form as you disappeared into the clutches of sleep, a soft laugh echoing into the otherwise silent ship.

"I might have to do some myself."


	4. Bigger Things To Worry About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally a third party member joins the Razor Crest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this chapter have little more plot, but I'll just save it for the next one. Sorry it took so long, I've been super busy with uni work!   
> Very NSFW again, smut! Hints of soft Mando as well as the cherry on the top.

"Well that wasn't exactly what I was expecting you to bring back," you stood, arms crossed tight across your chest, staring at the little creature tuckered up in the pod in front of you. It's oversized brown eyes were currently pressed shut as it sniffled in it's sleep, the deep wrinkles relaxed and peaceful after the shit-show of a day you'd just had. Thankfully you were back into hyperspace and heading far away from Nevarro - you needed as much space between the Razor Crest and that place as possible. Squirming in its sleep a little the child's tiny clawed fingers gripped the edge of the blanket, soft coos gurgling from its little mouth as dreams danced in its mind.

"Believe me it wasn't what I had in mind either," Mando shadowed you in the doorway to the bridge, his voice rough after the gunfight that had gone down with the guild. You turned to face him, an almost blinding display of chrome glaring at you as the new armour reflected the trail of stars above. Running your eyes over it you had to admit if he wasn't one of the scariest people you'd met before, he certainly was now. He tapped one finger nervously on his hip, one of the only giveaways he had that something was troubling him - it was so slight no one else would probably notice it.

He must have spotted you eyeing up the new getup as he shifted his weight and crossed his arms to mirror you. "What is it?"

"Might take some getting used to, I was pretty fond of the red," you furrowed your brow slightly in thought. He was certainly less camouflaged now, but then again a Mandalorian tended to stand out wherever they went. "Maybe we should head to Coruscant, you'd blend in with all the fancy décor at least." As you smiled at the thought his arms dropped and that signature huff of air cracked through the modulator.

"We need to get out of the empire's radar, I don't think Coruscant works with that plan," the visor dropped to the sleeping creature and you turned to follow the gaze. Sure the pair of you had been in some sticky situations before, but running from the remnants of the Empire? You had to be mad to even try.

"Why this one?" you stayed staring at the child, it's peaceful state flooding you with a comforting warmth. There had been so many quarries at this point; ones that were scared, ones that were angry, ones that begged for their lives and ones that just came quietly. No matter what pleads they threw at the Mandalorian they always ended up frozen in that cold grey block and exchanged for credits. It wasn't a job for the morally conscious, not all monsters crawl out of the ground - you were all too aware of that.

"It's just a kid," the crackled voice murmured from behind you, "it didn't do anything."

"Neither did half of the other bounties, so why this one?"

"The foundlings are our future, someone needs to protect them..." he trailed off uncharacteristically. There was more he wanted to say you could feel it, but you didn't usually pry too much into this thoughts, it wasn't your place. Facing him again you watched as his visor remained fixed on the new passenger. Stars you wanted to peel each piece of that armour off him, both the physical and not, to get to the real him under all the walls he'd put up. His secrecy was his survival, he'd told you that, but you'd seen a part of him you doubted any other had, and he'd reached a part of you that you didn't know you had. You didn't want to admit it of course, if your life had taught you anything it was that being soft was weak, and weakness was just an excuse for someone to abuse you.

Tentatively you took a step towards him, not looking at the helmet so he couldn't see how nervous you were as you reached a hand out. Cold shiny beskar met your touch as you palm rested up against the new chest plate on his left side, the pressure causing him to shiver just a fraction.

How long had it been now? Six months perhaps, you'd stopped counting once the fear that he was going to dump you at each planet faded into the back of your mind, never completely forgotten. The slow rise and fall of his chest rolled under your fingertips, a soothing reminder that beneath all that metal was still a man. You didn't look up, "why this one?"

There was no reply for a while, no movement, he held still before you. "He's like me," the response was hushed, like a secret that shouldn't see the light of day. "If the creed hadn't taken me in I would have become another victim of the Empire." Swallowing a lump in your throat you looked up to see the helmet tilted towards you, the unreadable opaque of the visor more reassuring than any real face you'd ever seen. "I needed to save him, the way they saved me."

The confession hung in the air, the otherwise chilly interior becoming stuffy and close. Mando didn't give anything away if he didn't want to, so that meant he must trust you a bit a least, right? Your hand begun to slide away from the plate when another came up to clasp it, worn yellow leather encasing your knuckles. You held your breath, scared that any slight movement might push him away. He'd touched you before, Stars he'd touched you in ways that you'd only ever fantasised about, but not like this.

This wasn't lust, this was warmth, the heartbeat-skipping kind of connection you made with someone when you just needed comfort. Under that armour was a heartbeat, strong and passionate and simultaneously just within reach and so utterly unobtainable to the likes of you. You attempted to steady your shaky breathing, refusing to reveal just how desperate you were for him to not let you go. "Is that why you picked me up?"

"I needed an engineer,"

"From an old imperial shipyard?"

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, "If the slaver's guild hadn't rounded you up I might have just left, but I needed an engineer and I-" He struggled to find the right words, the man who used them so little suddenly faced with the task of explaining his actions, something he never had to do to anyone. You weren't really expecting him to give a full answer, that wasn't how the pair of you communicated, it was in the small things like a cot in the walls and a satchel of credits outside the refresher. "It was better to take at least one of you away."

Out of everyone there you'd been selected, out of all the people who deserved a chance at freedom tenfold more than you did somehow he'd found you. Swallowing the lump again, you whispered at him, barely audible above the hum of the Razor Crest. "I never said thank you, for taking me away."

"You didn't need to say it," he was right - _it was in the small things_.

Pulling your hand from his grasp you turned back to the little pod, a small smile creeping into the corners of your lips. "Go get some rest, I'll watch the little guy," the fight had taken a toll on him, not that Mando would ever let it show and no way would he ever ask to go sleep, but when you offered he would occasionally indulge.

"Wake me if there's trouble," he departed from the bridge with a hiss of the doors, leaving you alone with the new and very precious cargo. Collapsing into the pilot's chair you ran a hand through your hair which was even more knotted than usual, Stars you needed a good soak in the fresher. Glancing at the child you let the smile widen a little, sure the Mandalorian was a warrior and a hunter, but at his core he had a soft spot for broken and lost things.

\-------------------------------

"Oh come on please stop crying!" you urged in a serious yet hushed plea as you held the child up to your face. It wasn't like he was wailing exactly, but those weren't happy gurgles that kept erupting in loud bursts from his wriggly form. Despite the undisturbed peace of hyperspace the little guy had only gotten in a few hours sleep before he'd woken up and decided to be very disgruntled with just about anything. You'd tried rocking the pod, then picked him up and rocked him when he tried to clamber out into the cockpit, but still he complained.

It wasn't loud, but knowing Mando he could probably hear a pin drop from all the way across the ship and he still needed more rest before you got to the next planet. Tiny claws grasped at your shirt so you let the child pull itself into your lap and toss around until he found a comfortable position. Stars he wasn't even as tall as your knees and he was just as much of a handful as the fully armoured Mandalorian you shared the Razor Crest with, fuck knows what the Empire wanted with him. As he sat in your lap in the pilot's chair playing with the clips on your belt, finally starting to settle back down again, you were helpless to the smile that spread across your face.

He was damn cute you'd give him that.

As the kid entertained itself with your buttons you thought back to the conversation with Mando earlier, about how he wanted to save people from imperial rule the way he'd been saved. You didn't deserve to be saved, that was for sure, you'd done too much damage to the galaxy already, but there was something comforting in knowing he'd done probably just as much - _and you would still run back to him in a heartbeat_. But now the Empire - or what was left of it at least - was hunting the child, so what kind of position did that put you in, did you stay and help protect it or run just in case you were the reason they found the Razor Crest. You shook the thoughts out of your head, it had been years since you were even off Corellia, everything before that place was buried now, and if you wanted to remain the engineer of this ship that's how it would stay.

When the child finally stopped squirming around and you could hear his little snores you crept out of the seat as quietly as you could, clutching the cargo in one arm. Trying not to disturb him you left the bridge and opened up your cot in the wall, pulling one of the blankets onto the floor and balling the other up into a kind of nest, gently placing the sleeping green lump into the centre. As you let go he turned over, threatening to wake up again.

 _Do not start crying please._ There was no way Mando wouldn't hear him less than the ship's width away in the other cot. It was your lucky day - the child sniffed once more before cosying up into the soft pile and falling back into the embrace of sleep. One less problem you had to deal with now.

The exertion of the day hit you like a bantha at full charge. There was still nearly half a day left in hyperspace, all systems were working fine and there was nothing else that needed doing on the ship. You could afford a quick nap, right? Sinking to the floor with your back against the wall you pulled the spare blanket up over you, instantly feeling your eyelids droop at the warmth. You glanced over one shoulder, making sure the kid was still tucked up on the pallet. If he started whining again you'd hear him, if the ship started whining you'd hear that too. Effortlessly you drifted off on the ship's floor.

\---------------------------------

The first thing that caught your attention was the person standing next you you, dark clothing and treading so softly that you wouldn't have woken up if their leg hadn't brushed your shoulder. _Shit._ Startled and disorientated you lashed out from under the blanket, connecting with the back of their knee so that their leg buckled. The corridor was nearly pitch black with only the emergency light above the bridge door providing any kind of glow. Whoever this was needed to get the fuck out of your home.

You went to hit them again, only to have your throw blocked with lightning speed. Your heart raced wildly, a million possibilities flashing in your mind and almost no solutions being produced to solve the situation.

"Fuck- keep it down or you'll wake the kid!"

_Oh thank the stars._

A modulated whisper hummed into the space, the familiar crackle of Mando's helmet instantly calming - you were safe. He let go of your fist as the tension faded from your muscles, you arm dropping back into the folds of the blanket. Wiping the sleep quickly from your eyes you twisted to look at the child still curled up exactly where you'd left him, oversized ears flopping adorably over his closed eyes. The Mandalorian leaned into the cot, double-checking that the child was sound asleep before he retreated and manually closed the wall panel. As your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim interior it dawned on your why you hadn't recognised him at first.

He wasn't wearing his armour.

Barely through the dark you could see the subtle glint of the helmet, but aside from that all the plates were gone, he was down to just the undershirt and trousers. You could feel the visor tilt down to you, but you were too busy letting your eyes run over the loose drapes of the fabric. Sure you'd been much closer to him than this, but somehow seeing him without the thing that was so core to his being was otherworldly, wrong almost. Should you even be looking right now, should you turn away or close your eyes or something?

Still in shock you did none of those things, just continued to drink in every detail you could capture in the poor lighting. His chest was still broad even without the plate, and his legs were thick, built up after years of hunting the quarries and carrying the weight of all that metal. You'd felt the muscles tense under your hand when you hit him- _oh shit you hit him._

"I'm- I'm sorry I didn't realise it was you,"

"It's OK Starlight," he dropped to his knees beside you, the familiar clink of metal touching metal absent now in the near silence of the surroundings.

"Is everything OK with the ship?"

"Yeh, we're still at least 6 hours out," his voice was soft and gentle, the bassy tone somehow more prominent without the rest of the armour despite the filter over the top. "You can take my cot if you need more sleep..." he lingered on the sentence, like he was going to say more but was stopping himself. It was the dead of night for you, there was nothing to bother you but the stretch of hyperspace, and there were only two layers of very thin fabric between your skin.

"I- I'm fine down here, comfier than it looks actually," two people couldn't fit into one cot.

"Oh yeh?"

"Mhmm... you should try it," well it wasn't like he could see the blush on your cheeks was it. Maybe he could actually, maybe through the visor everything was as bright as day. Without looking away from you he dropped all the way to the floor, sitting in the middle of the corridor facing you whilst you pulled the blanket off your lap. Neither of you said anything for a while, you just sat content in each other's company on the floor of one of the only places you'd ever called home. Even without the armour and in near pitch black he radiated confidence and certainty, it made you feel more sure of yourself, of the likelihood that you all might just pull this heist off.

After who knows how long he shifted closer until your knees were level, and brought the back of his hand up to the side of your calf. He wasn't wearing any gloves either. The knuckles were prominent through your trouser leg as they grazed slowly back and forth, something that should be so soothing sending your pulse into a frenzy. You wanted him so badly, it was never enough any more to have him pressed into you with layers of metal and clothing still attached. You wanted to feel his skin against yours, to know what he felt like when he shuddered under your touch, to taste him as you ran your lips over every inch of available flesh.

Emboldened by the cover of dark you reached out until your fingers brushed his, interlocking with them between your bodies. They were just as soft as you remembered, strong too, completely indicative of the person behind them. You hummed in amusement as your thumb rubbed over the back of his hand.

"What is it?"

"Nothing I uh- I just never took you as the hand holding type," as you said that some small part of you expected him to pull away, to put back on the armour in a sense. But he didn't, instead he pulled your hand towards him, the unexpected touch of cold beskar causing you to hold your breath. Carefully he guided your fingers up under the rim of the helmet until they met rough stubble, and a firm square jawline. Stars he was like nectar, one drop was never enough and as you held his cheek you found yourself trying to piece together what he might look like under there. He was human you were pretty sure, but you couldn't tell for certain, all you knew was that if heaven was a place it was in hyperspace with him.

Closing your eyes you brushed your thumb across his cheek, the pricks of facial hair making your nerves tingle as all your senses honed in on him. You already knew where this was going; it was dark, you were in hyperspace, and Stars you were already on the floor, it would be a waste not the make the most of it. Almost as if he sensed your pleas his breaths became shallower and shakier, a rough edge to his stern façade that he couldn't quite smooth out.

"Keep your eyes closed..." he commanded in a hushed tone. He didn't need to ask at his point and he knew it, instantly removing his helmet as the words left his lips. Cool air met the back of your hand for a split second before he brought his own back up to it, clutching you tighter than you'd expected. Dragging your fingertips along his jaw he brought them up to his lips, slowly placing half a kiss on each pad, so deliberate and certain that you were trembling by the time he was done.

You'd been mesmerised by him since the instant you saw him on Corellia, caught up in the whirlwind of travelling with a bounty hunter and a Mandalorian at that, but now? Now you were so utterly encompassed by all that he did the galaxy would never be quite as bright if he wasn't standing there reflecting some of it back at you.

Using your arm as a guide he pulled himself into you, your legs obediently spreading to accommodate his wide frame between them until his breaths warmed your cheeks. Without the armour between you every movement he made became electric, his torso tensed as he hovered above you, his thighs twitched as they pressed up against the inside of yours. _Two layers of fabric_ , that's all it was now. Mando leaned in and planted his lips on your chin, nipping ever so slightly at the thin layer of flesh. How did his lips feel _so fucking good_? They were just lips, but as he moved down your neck they became ecstasy incarnate, fire springing up under from your veins wherever he planted them.

Grabbing the hem of your shirt he started to suck on the hollow between your collarbones, drawing a hushed moan from you as permission for him to carry on. With a needy force he removed your top until your chest was laid bare for him, the heat in your core a complete juxtaposition to the cold air that made your nipples peak instantly. He dropped even further down, running his hot tongue down your sternum and under the curve of your breast, teasing around the sensitive nub. Your back arched involuntarily, like your body wanted to present itself for his pleasure, and who were you to stop it.

At the motion his hand caressed the small of your back, the mere warmth of his touch inducing a smile of delight from you, quickly turning into another moan as he finally took your nipple into his mouth. Pleasure rumbled through you as your hand shot to the back of his head, fingers entwining with the delectable curls. Small growls reverberated from his chest into you, switching sides and latching onto the other one even more ferociously, any gentleness he had started with swiftly ebbing away. You were so entranced by the feeling of him on your flushed chest you hadn't felt his other hand dip between your pressed-together forms, that was until it suddenly shifted hard over your heat.

Shit you were already practically dripping for him and you hadn't even realised. Pulling you in closer and trapping your bodies together he began to work in small circles over your clit while he nibbled at your cleavage. Rolling your eyes further back into your head you rocked your hips into him shamelessly, you were way past trying to mask your desire now. Hot as sin he dragged his tongue down your heaving stomach, tearing his hand away from between your legs much to your displeasure. As he planted heavy kisses above the waistband of your trousers he began to pull them down, and although your couldn't see you could feel his gaze lock onto the mess in your panties.

"Was someone desperate for this?" the gorgeous baritone did nothing to help stop the flow soaking through the material. Stars you needed to feel him there again like some kind of drug - now you'd tried it you didn't want to go without it. You were expecting to feel his fingers flutter against your heat, instead they suddenly touched against your lips and the taste of him crept into your mouth. Opening obediently he slid two in flat against your tongue, his thumb supporting the underside of your jaw. He pulled your panties down one-handed and as he did you sucked on his fingers, knowing exactly where this was headed.

"That's a good girl," he praised you softly as he pulled his fingers back and your breath hitched in anticipation. Fuck you could already feel how slick you'd become. He connected with your clit in a burst of searing elation, your own spit helping him slide over the area with a level of self-control you couldn't begin to imitate. Your legs jerked and fist tightened in his hair, pulling a blissful groan out of him. In response He changed from small circles to long strokes, thick forefinger gliding between your folds, lubricating you even more as it collected your wetness in its path.

Abruptly his hand pulled away, you were about to complain when it was replaced by his luscious mouth, jaw yearning fervently as the first taste of you hit him. He delved into you like a starved man, curved nose pushing against your clit and any movement shooting you dangerously close to the edge. " _Fuck_ Mando..." all eloquence abandoned you as he flicked over every tender nerve ending - you were already clenching trying to hold back the orgasm.

"Do you like that Starlight?"

You would have been annoyed at the departure of him from your folds if he didn't instantaneously plunge a digit into your cunt, the complete lack of resistance allowing him to hilt it fully in you. Desperately you rolled your hips as he curled it up into you, trying to encourage him to keep going, but characteristically he didn't bend to your pleas. Shit he wasn't even moving and you were so close to the brink. Finally he pulled it out again, debilitatingly slowly and raking a hoarse moan from you as he did so, reinserting it with a strong stroke.

" _Fuck_ \- you're already this wet for me," it was just a statement yet you took it like a gleaming compliment, rocking with him as the pace steadily increased, the sound of him finger-fucking you otherworldly. Another finger joined the first and his thumb began rubbing your clit again, making you legs jerk when he spread your own slick across the nub. Ecstasy was a tragically underwhelming word, you were so jumped up with elation it felt like you were levitating off the floor.

His weight shifted again, fingers thundering into you with such a hunger that you felt your climax surging towards the surface. Then his tongue slipped between the folds of your heat - you fucking lost it. With a blazing surge you came for him after barely two passes of him over your sensitive clit, orgasm ripping through you like a solar storm, blinding and brilliant. You drenched his face with your cum, only just registering the feral groans that he emitted as you writhed under his hold.

If it broke you, it shattered something in him.

Mando ripped away from you and all you could hear as you rode out the end of your climax was the hurried rustle of clothing and the thud of him bracing against the walls. In a split second he was back, one hand locking into your hair and supporting your head. Fuck even as you came down the other side of the orgasm you couldn't help but wonder what his expression was in that moment, was he smiling at the sight of you squirming, was his brow furrowed as his own sex hardened, or was he just as expressionless as that helmet.

You didn't linger on the image long, he wedged himself between your spread legs - _and Stars that was his real flesh_. You'd felt glimpses of it before, but this was two bare legs pressed into the insides of your own, a fine layer of hair tickling your receptive thighs. If you'd had your way you would have taken time to cherish the feeling, but the sensation of something wide splitting your folds threw you back into the room.

"You look so good like this..." his voice was dark and rough, breathing agitated as he guided the head of his cock through the wake of your orgasm. Rising to the feeling your legs jerked again, only succeeding in encouraging him to grind over your heat with more pressure. "Is- is this what you've wanted? Did you want me to fuck you on the floor?"

You didn't respond verbally, you just shifted your weight further down until his tip just began to part you, desperate to feel him back in you. Stars, there were five-hundred other things you both needed to worry about, but this need was primal and overwhelming.

Just as slow as his finger had, he moved into you, your walls instantly tightening as they fought to accommodate his size. Grimacing a little your hand shot to the arm looping behind your head, fingers gripping tight into his firm bicep.

"That's my good girl-" he didn't wait like before, he thrusted at a steadfast pace, forcing your cunt to relax for him, each stroke ending deeper until he was fully hilted. He was so far up into you that it felt like he was pulling at your stomach, wrenching gleeful cries from your throat. You clenched as he paused, causing him to lurch forwards until the heat radiating from his face reached your own.

"You want to play it like that?" he must have seen the smirk on your face as the pace went from enduring to utterly pummelling. The smile quickly dropped back into parted lips as he hammered into you, free hand coming up and grabbing your thigh to help guide him. With each smack he hit the spot deep inside you that sent you into a frenzy, the ridges of his cock stimulating every single electric nerve. Your cries only seemed to spur him on more, each noise that left you being answered with a spine-breaking thrust as he pounded you towards oblivion. The Empire could go fuck themselves if they wanted to try and take this from you.

The second orgasm quickly built up in your core, like he was a blacksmith forging his perfect creation, twice as searing as the last one and coming too quickly for your liking. "Mando- fuck-" you could barely get the words out as he split you. "I'm close- fuck I'm so close-" you didn't really care if you came again, you just didn't want him to stop.

Unsheathing himself with a euphorically wet sound, both hands grabbed your hips, and at first you thought he was going to unload over you. To your surprise he heaved your entire body up - then flipped you over. Gasping as the cold floor greeted your already erect nipples, the air was forced from your lungs as Mando pressed your chest down into the floor, hoisting your hips up to his groin. Running a finger down over your dripping cunt you shuddered as he did so, gasping to get a hint of oxygen back knowing what was coming.

"You thought you'd have to fuck me the day I found you, is this what you thought it would be like?" he crooned from behind, you could feel his eyes wander over your exposed skin. Just like before you didn't answer, still so lost for breath and words that it was easier to stay quiet. That didn't sit well. Once again his hand shot out, thick fingers wrapping round the front of your throat and squeezing the lines down the side, swiftly removing any breath you'd recovered. "I asked you a question."

You fought through the pressure, "it doesn't- even compare."

He rammed back up into your cunt with a force that rivalled a star destroyer. From this angle he reached not only the deepest parts of your body but also your soul, pounding with a savage speed that ruined your strength. Still holding your throat he pulled your head back so your back was arched and you could hear him murmur in your ear. "That's my girl- _fuck_ \- fuck you're so good..."

You cried out into the void of the ship, the searing passion breaking your sanity, completely at the mercy of his unrelenting pace. Fuck, you were right on the brink, and by the rasped groans emanating from Mando, he was close too. Stars you were nearly screaming now, the rapture of his length scraping you raw making you dizzy. Your knees dug painfully into the bare metal grating but you couldn't care less, all your focus was pinned on the immense presence of the bounty hunter taking you. With each stroke he pushed you closer and closer to orgasm until you were helpless to the tide that was bursting it's banks.

The sensation that followed was what really broke you. You felt him reach around under your torso until his digits hit your pulsing clit, and with his middle finger he began caressing it, fluttering back and forth as he continued to fuck you from behind. Unable to move anywhere all you could do was moan unapologetically as he wound up the tension deep in you, fingertip already soaking and sliding across your sex aided by the residual cum. It wasn't just pleasurable, it was so brain-numbingly exhilarating that it flat-out demanded your climax.

"Mando I'm going to cum!" it was all you could cry out before you felt yourself clamping around his girth, the avalanche of your climax decimating your inhibitions. Going limp in his grasp you trembled as you came hard on his cock. Your moans were echoed a moment later as you felt Mando rocket and lock fully into you, a loud whine escaping him as thick ropes of his load shot into you. He fell forwards as he came, burning forehead resting between your shoulder blades as another twitch of his cock dumped more hot cum into you. You would have collapsed onto the ground if his arm wasn't still cradled underneath you, mindlessly still stimulating your heat as he panted. Both left gasping for air you let your head loll forwards, enough of your consciousness left that you could appreciate the feeling of his scrunched up brow adding to the thin film of sweat on your back.

The heavy rise and fall of his chest pressed against you as he rode out the feeling of you climaxing on him, laying messy kisses down your spine much to your delight. Gradually, he lowered you to the floor, the sting of the cooler metal harsh against your overheated body, not that you had the energy to relocate yourself elsewhere. Eyes still closed, you felt about for the blanket that had been tossed aside. It brushed up over your still shaking legs, coming to lay just below your shoulders as another body just as scorched as your own settled in beside you. Mando didn't offer any conversation, but that was ok - his silence was comfort, and right now you wouldn't know what to say anyway. 

You waited for the inevitable shift as he put his helmet back on. Nothing. Twisting around you turned to lay on your side, grinning internally when he also moved to press back up against you, the thick muscles of his torso pushed into your back. Your eyes started to droop as sleep came for you, still he hadn't moved to put the helmet back on. 

Was this a test? To make sure you didn't try to peek no matter how strong the urge became. 

"You don't have to stay here," you mumbled into the space, if he was still on the floor out of courtesy then you may as well let him know it was ok to leave. He was a Mandalorian, Stars he didn't belong on the floor with a imperial throw-away - that didn't mean you weren't hoping he'd stay wrapped around you. 

"I'm fine here," the tiredness in his tone only deepened the treacle that met your ears. As if to make a point he cradled your front with one arm, caging your hands in his. He was behind you, you couldn't see him, _but his hand_? Peering through increasingly heavy eyelids you glanced down, struggling to make much out in the pitch dark of the once again quiet Razor Crest. The skin was olive or a dark tan, you couldn't quite make out specifically, even so it was like the final rays on sunset on a clear day; intense and warm.

"What if I wake up and your helmet isn't on?" you continued to admire his fingers caressing yours as you posed the question.

"I'll be up before you, don't worry," as if to coax you into sleep Mando idly trailed his lips over your shoulder, pressing them together periodically like he was tracing a constellation. 

Stars what you wouldn't give to wake up with him still there with you, unfiltered breathing whispering good morning to you. He wouldn't be there though, it wasn't that he didn't care or that he was embarrassed, it was simply the way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! As ever I'd love to hear what you think!


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